A dark and stormy night
by datawolf39
Summary: Despite the title this is fluffy fluffy fluff. it's Mystrade of course with a teeny tiny bit of Johnlock in the back ground, and highly OOC but in (i hope) a good way. but i had to write it for there is not enough of this couple. there could never be enough.


Gregory Lestrade, known to his friends as Greg, was a very simple man of very simple tastes. He led a relatively simple life, apart from Sherlock Holmes's involvement in it (nothing could ever be simple when that man was involved). Simply stated he was an average bloke with average problems.

So with all of the averageness Greg's brain could hardly hope to understand why Mycroft 'The Bloody Embodiment of the British Government' Holmes was standing outside his door, in the rain, during a thunderstorm, umbrella-less, and very nearly naked.

Greg blinked. This was surely an hallucination. Not sure why he would be hallucinating this and what exactly that said about him but...

Nope he was still there.

Greg couldn't help but look and notice that Mycroft was very fit and not fat at all. Not that he was interested in guys of course but when a guy turned up mostly naked at your door you tend to notice these things.

He had been so sure that it was an hallucination though. Not that he hallucinated that often but still the idea of this being a figment of his imagination, no matter what that revealed of his mental state, was way more believable.

He blinked again, just to be on the safe side.

Nope he was still there.

"Gregory as much as I love the rain I have no wish to continue standing in it."

Greg wanted to laugh nobody had called him Gregory since he was a little kid. But at last he regained the ability to use his, puny normal person brain, as Sherlock called it, and pulled the man into his flat. Once he was inside he could see that the man was shivering and went to get him a towel and something dry to wear.

Greg knew very little of Mycroft. All he knew was that the man had power (used to get Sherlock out of trouble time and time again) and that he had minions to do his bidding. That brought him to the question of the hour, what was the man doing here in nothing but some tight trousers?

Mycroft had stayed where he was so that he didn't get water everywhere. Greg handed him the towel and the clothes. Then he turned, so the man could have privacy, and went into the kitchen to make tea. It was only then he remembered what he had been doing before Mycroft had come.

He had been deciding whither or not to indulge in the sweet that his friend over in America had called a doughnut hole. You see Greg didn't like sweets. So it wasn't surprising that he didn't know many of them. That was until he had been sent over to America on a case. A killer had decided to move over seas and he was sent over to help. He hadn't even been a inspector when he had gone over. Somehow the military had gotten involved and that was how he met Jack O'Neill and that was who had introduced him to the doughnut hole.

He was sad to say that he had become addicted. It wasn't his proudest moment. But now he only had them sparingly he knew his limits. If he ate more than three in a week all his hard work was down the drain. That's why he stayed so late at work most days. They couldn't get him when he was at work.

It also didn't help that Jack sent him a box every month just to mess with him.

Shaking his head he put the tea on.

A few minutes later he was back in the sitting room with two cups of tea and a few of the doughnut holes. Mycroft was dry and dressed in the clothes and quite frankly he looked a bit out of place. Greg placed everything on the table, sat next to the man on the sofa, and was about to question Mycroft when he saw that the man was staring at the sweets on the plate. He looked like he wanted to devour them.

"Don't tell me you too?" Greg said.

Mycroft looked up his eyes reluctantly leaving the plate. "Sherlock teased me for months about the addiction."

Greg shook his head this was no time to discuss treats! He cleared his throat. "Why are you here?" He asked at last.

Mycroft grabbed his tea and one of those fluffy little addictive bites of doughnut. He ate it and drank a sip of tea before replying. "Can't I visit a friend?"

"I met you once, five years ago, in an empty warehouse, and since then we have met on a few occasions involving Sherlock. I hardly would call us friends. Even if we were, friends don't turn up mostly starkers at their friend's flats. Speaking of that, why in the world were you only in trousers?"

Greg had the pleasure of seeing Mycroft blush.

"Would it be wrong of me to say it was because I lost a bet?"

"Yes. So let us pretend that's not the reason. So hypothetically what would this bet have been?"

Mycroft bit his lip. Greg fought the urge to laugh the man was acting so bashful.

"Hypothetically speaking it might have been a bet with a far too insightful former member of her Majesty's army that both are acquainted with."

Greg nodded wondering what John had bet this man. "And the stakes of this purely hypothetical bet?"

"That I would if he would."

Greg shook his head and wondered if all of the Holmes's were this infuriating. "If you would be so kind as to elaborate." he said.

"The good doctor has obviously been harboring a crush on my dear brother. But Sherlock had forced himself not to notice it. I confronted him about this and somehow he made me agree to the bet. He'd tell Sherlock and I'd tell you. If I backed out he swore he would... well you don't need to know about that. Suffices to say that I couldn't back out."

"John agreed to tell Sherlock what?" Lestrade asked. He wasn't as dumb as Sherlock would have people believe he could clearly see where this was going. No the problem here was he couldn't believe it.

Mycroft took a bite of sugary courage before saying, "John would tell Sherlock how he felt and I would tell you how I feel."

"Let me see if I understand this. John likes Sherlock. So... that means that you like me?"

Mycroft nodded. The man looked vulnerable sitting there in there in ill-fitting clothes. Stripped of his three piece armor as it were.

"Okay and how does telling me that translate to you showing up at my flat in a state of undress?"

"I was allowing you to... preview the wares... before purchasing."

Greg didn't know what he should say to that. A very sexy man (and he had no idea before that thought that he thought Mycroft was sexy) that he hardly knew ( for he had no doubt that Mycroft knew everything about _him_) just confessed that he would very much like to date him (everyday bloke Lestrade(and what was with all these thoughts within thoughts anyway?)). What exactly does one say to that?

'It's not like we don't have things in common,' he found himself thinking as he viewed the empty plate on the table. He looked at Mycroft again. The man really was cute when he blushed and he was doing that a lot tonight. Lestrade had never been with a guy before so he didn't know if it would work out. Well there was one way to find out wasn't there?

"Kiss me." he found himself saying.

Mycroft was startled. "What!" he managed to choke out.

"You want to date me. I want to know if we are compatible and since I have never dated a guy this is the only way I know to test it. So I need you to kiss me." he stated simply.

Mycroft licked his lips.

Mycroft Holmes was no coward.

Mycroft knew this was his chance. He got up from his seat on the sofa and gently laid himself on top of the DI. Then he locked lips with him.

'He tastes so sweet' Greg thought as he shifted a bit to make both of them a bit more comfortable. His second thought was yes they were definitely compatible.

"So?" Mycroft asked when the parted so that they could breathe.

Greg gave him a look that clearly advertised the fact that there was no question of what he answer was. Instead he said "Remind me to thank John the next time I see him." then he pull him in for another kiss. Yes they were most certainly compatible.

Of course neither of them knew not even Mycroft despite the fact that many thought he was omnipotent or at the very least clairvoyant when he was but well-informed) that in exactly one year, three months, four days, eight hours, twenty minutes, and five seconds from that round of snogging that they shared on the sofa, they would be having a joint wedding ceremony with another couple made up of another man who believed himself to be absurdly average and yet another genius, and that the cake would be topped with doughnut holes to both of their dismay.

But that was in the future. At the moment Mycroft was just overjoyed not to have been rejected and Greg... well he was thinking that it was a dream because it was too crazy to be reality. He found out he was wrong when he woke to find himself cuddling with Mycroft on the sofa the next morning. So he did what any average British bloke would do. He made tea for both of them and used a sick day so he could stay at home.

**A/N crazy little fluffy Mystrade. I have no excuse for this. I own nothing but the situation (I don't even own Greg's addiction for that was borrowed too w/ permission of course from the author). Please review if you so desire.**


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